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He watched me as I rose and slid him inside me.
He was mine to use, mine to love.
It was slow and sweet torture as I lowered myself. The remembrance of him almost made me cry. Slowly, I took all of him inside me. Our eyes connected; memories of our young love shared in silence. My mouth opened in a silent gasp.
Years of longing and need for him urged me on. Our bodies moved together as if we’d never been apart. Gripping my hips firmly, he pressed into my flesh. I pushed my hands on his chest, riding him, and grinding down on him.
“So. Fucking. Beautiful.” He gasped with each thrust.
I rode him like he was mine to ride, taking and taking. My back arched and my hair hung down my back. He rubbed my clit with his thumb and I ignited. I shook and trembled above him, until my body couldn’t take anymore. I shattered, screaming out with the intensity of my orgasm, and collapsed on top of him.
With a fluid motion, he rolled me over onto my back. Gently, he pushed deeper inside me. My body was limp. A sexual fog surrounded us as he thrust in and out of me, whispering loving words, and kissing me with soft lips.
I was his to use, his to love. I spread my legs and his rhythm increased. A push. A grind. A grunt. Faster and faster. Our bodies thrusting together, grasping, reaching for that sweet release. My toes curled, the tension increasing again. He thrust hard against me, rubbing me, and grunting as another wave of pleasure crashed through me. I tightened around him and he came. His moans merged with my screams, and we rode it out together, tensing and holding each other close.
I held him tightly to me. Tears fell from the corner of my closed eyes, and he kissed them away. “Shh. You’re okay. We’re okay,” he whispered into my hair, cradling me close, the smell of sex and sweat tickled my nose. “You’re okay.”
He rocked me until I was no longer weepy.
I brushed away the remaining tears with my fingertips. When I raised my head, I noticed his lashes were spiky. I loved him even more because of it.
His hand brushed through my hair as I continued to look at him.
I kissed his chest, the salty taste of sweat arousing me again.
I whispered between kisses, “Do you want to take a shower?”
He guffawed. “Do I want to take a shower? Ha! Do I want your sweet ass tucked up against me forever?” He leapt out of bed, pulled me up and threw me over his shoulder. He gave me a smack and drawled, “Yes, ma’am, I do.”
The rapid shift in emotions had me squealing with laughter.
The shower was playful and seductive. I lathered us both with a bar of Montana Huckleberry soap. “Where did you get this?”
He mumbled as he washed his face under the spray. “Stole it.”
I kissed his back. “You did not. But I don’t want to know.”
He turned to me, protecting me from the water. Tenderly he said, “There is a lot of time for talking. We know it’s coming. Let me love you tonight. We can argue tomorrow.”
I stood on my toes, and kissed him softly. “Call each other names?”
He kissed me back. “You’ve spent the last six years calling me names; you can’t hurt me.”
“Ah-ha! So, you weren’t as immune to me as you led me to believe.”
His smile was sweet.
I wrapped my arms around him. Reaching for the shower facet handle, I turned off the water. “Well, then, you can call me names.”
He took my cheeks in his hands. “I have never spoken poorly of you, and I never will.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Well, only in my own head,” he chuckled.
My eyes watered again. He kissed me. “Let’s go to bed.”
I slept deeply, comforted by the heavy weight of Jacob lying next to me.
